


Passing Judgement

by TeamGwenee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post ADWD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9718712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: After defeating Lady Stoneheart, Jaime and Brienne arrive in King's Landing just in time to see Cersei sentenced.





	

 

 

Somehow the two of them had survived, though the squire and the hedge knight were not so lucky and his Maid had only managed to hold onto life by the skin off her teeth.

Her wounds sustained in battle and the fever that had been burning beneath her skin caused her to fall off horse and into the mud. Jaime had leapt down from his saddle and with Ser Addam Marbrand's aid hauled her onto his horse, where she rode with him back to his camp.

It was there that he had received the news. Myrcella wounded. His uncle dead. His sister stripped and paraded through the streets.

He began preparations to return to King's Landing immediately.

“You will accompany us there,” Jaime informed Brienne brusquely, ripping off his golden hand and rubbing salve into the chafed skin.

“So I am a prisoner, then” she muttered dully from her sick bed inside Jaime's tent, where she had been fighting off the last of the fever that ravaged her body.

“An honoured guest,” Jaime corrected her.

“An honoured guest who cannot leave,”

“Exactly, you're finally catching on Wench,” he placed himself on the edge of the bed.

“By what right do you keep me here?”

“By the right of having you surrounded by thousands of men all sworn to me, by that right,”

Brienne ground her teeth.

“I swore to Lady Catelyn that I would find her daughters,”

“And then she tried to hang you. I would say that you owe her very little after that, don't you?”

“Well what am I meant to do?” she demanded, her voice cracking. “My land is destroyed, my home is gone and my father,” she broke off, “my father...”

Jaime found himself wrapping his arms round her shoulders and, unable to hold back the tears, she buried her head in the crook of his neck. News of the Golden Company having invaded Tarth arrived shortly after Jaime began his plans to return the Red Keep. There was no word of Brienne's father.

“I should go to Tarth,” she muttered finally, her sobs having died down.

“What? And fight off the Golden Company single handedly? Don't be a fool Wench, what could you hope to accomplish?”

“It is my home, I must defend it,”

Jaime tilted up Brienne's chin and stared hard into her eyes.

“How? You can hardly stand, let alone fight,”  
“When I have recovered-”

“Plans will not yet have been made by the Council to take back the lands invaded by the Golden Company. Until they have, you shall wait before taking action. Anything else will be a folly,”

Brienne pursed her lips and her maimed, homely face twisted into a scowl. Still, she nodded grudgingly.

“You will wait?”

“I will wait until the first soldiers depart for the Stormlands, and then I shall join them,”

Jaime nodded in agreement, his eyes flickering towards her bandaged cheek and refraining from adding _“If I can let you go. If not, it will be just another vow I will have broken,”_

~

This was the second dead woman he had encountered in as many moons. Unlike the other; whose skin had been grey and mottled, this one was radiant and beautiful, still beautiful. Her shorn golden hair had left Jaime wondering how the headsman would lift it up to show the crowd, for there was no time left for it to grow.

It was curious, Jaime had mused, how the two of them had been so convinced that they would die together. And it had been close. His sweet sister had been condemned the very day he himself had faced Lady Stoneheart. Only where she had lost her battle, he had reigned victorious.

Of course, he'd had an advantage where his sister had not.

Whereas all turned their backs on his sister; their queen, the Maid of Tarth fought beside him until his men arrived and cut down the last of the Brotherhood, regardless of the blood that gushed from her wounds.

By the time he had returned, Cersei's trial had been in full swing. The proceedings were overseen by Lord Tyrell who, with his own daughter and nieces awaiting their own trial, saw fit to please the High Septon by denying Cersei's request for trial by combat and insisted upon trial by the Seven.

They had arrived just in time for the sentencing. To do his sister credit, her face barely flickered when she heard the words “Death by beheading,”

Even now, the night before, her beautiful face was cold and calm as she watched him enter the room.

She wore the same black gown she had worn at her trial. Dried red wine stains adorned the front and she smelt sour.

Jaime was merely glad to see that she had avoided her customary crimson and gold, embroidered in lions. The Lannister name was sullied enough. By his sister. By him. By every one of the rotten lot.

But he could change than. He would, he vowed. And this vow, he would not break.

“Brother,” she said, inclining her head slightly.

“Cersei,”

“You have come at last then, when I no longer have use of you,”  
“You would have no use of me if I did come when you called. You were refused trial by combat,”

“You made yourself Lord Regent quickly enough,” she hissed, “You could have allowed it! You could have fought for me-”

“Fought for you, lost for you and died for you,” Jaime nodded, “Unless you forget sweet sister, I am down a sword hand. My time was better spent in the Riverlands,”

“Oh yes,” Cersei laughed bitterly, “Running around with that Cow of Tarth. They say she slept in your tent, they call her your whore-”  
“Do not speak of her like that!” Jaime snapped, his hand twitching towards his sword.

Cersei raised an eyebrow and sipped her wine. “Of course I do not believe it. A creature like that, even you would not sink so low. Is it true that half her face is missing?”

“The Lady Brienne has been grievously injured,”

Cersei smirked, “Well, now that our brother is gone I suppose you had to find yourself another freak to replace him. Another pet to follow you around and defend from the world. Yet even now you refuse to save me, your sister. Your twin,”  
“You know I can't do that,”

“You saved the Imp,”

 _"The Imp was Innocent,'"_ Jaime thought.

“And that turned out so well the last time, as I recall you telling me. You will be glad to hear that I have learned my lesson,”

Cersei's fingers clenched the stem of her wine glass, looking as though she longed to hurl it at his head.

“Get. Out,” she snarled. As he turned his back to go she shrieked, “You walk out a free man brother, yet we both know you deserve to be here as much as I!”

Jaime paused, remembering Lady Stoneheart's haggard face and rotting skin. _“I have already been judged,”_ he thought, _“And my champion triumphed,”_

“Wait!” Cersei cried as Jaime moved to leave once more, then, in a desperate voice, “Have you news of Tommen? Have you seen him?”

Jaime half turned to face her and nodded stiffly. “I have,”

“And?”

“The Little Queen and her roses are keeping him distracted,”

Cersei's lips twisted into a sneer. “Of course she is, the little whore,”

“He's a child Cersei, what do you they're doing?”

Cersei didn't answer, merely clasping her hands and turned to face the window. She took her glass of wine and glugged it down, ignoring the drips running down her chin.

“I don't want him to see it,”

“He won't,”

“May I say goodbye,”

The small council would not like it, but Jaime nodded nevertheless. “I shall see to it. I promise,”

Cersei laughed bitterly. “And you always keep your promises, don't you brother,”

 

~

Ever since arriving at King's Landing, Brienne kept mostly to the rooms she had been appointed. They were spacious and pleasant, but still she felt stifled after such a long time on the road. She almost missed it. True, it was nice bathing reguarly and not constantly wearing rags or armour, but on the road she was away from the Lords and Ladies of the court that stared with open, fascinated horror at the grotesque ruin of her cheek, and whispered venom into their neighbour's ears behind her back.

“ _Kingslayer's whore,”_ they all hissed behind their soft, lily white hands.

She would leave if she could, go looking for the Stark girl once more, even if it was a hopeless case, just to be away from those stares and whispers. But for all the freedom she had been allowed in the Red Keep, it had been made clear to her that she was to stay. And she promised Jaime that she would.

And so, unable to leave, she remained hidden away in her chambers. She spent her days sitting there, mourning the loss of her dutiful squire, the man who had made her laugh and made her weep, and the father who had stubbornly loved her in the face of her numerous failings.

She received with no other company but the chamber maid who came to deliver food and take away the cleaning, except for when Ser Jaime came to visit.

Upon his return to the Red Keep he stepped down from the Kingsguard and made himself regent. Unlike Brienne, he had not the option of hiding away from the court in his chambers. His only retreat from the constant scheming and backstabbing at court was the few moments he spent every evening in Brienne's chambers.

Whilst there he would try to encourage her to join him in the training yards, or to go for a ride. But Brienne, who had ridden into the unknown and faced down death, found herself unable to venture into the world for all to see. She wanted to. She wanted to distract him and keep his mind off his sister's fate. But the walls that she had spent a lifetime building to keep the whispers and insults out had been torn down the day she had arrived at King's Landing.

Today, however, she would join him. For she could not leave him to face the wolves alone, today of all days. Instead of her usual breeches, she donned one of the few gowns that Jaime had made for her on their arrival, and allowed the maid to braid her hair.

She stepped out of her chambers to find Jaime waiting for her, his face white and black clothes matching her own.

“I came to ask you to accompany me,” he murmured, “I could not face it alone,”

Alone seemed like such a foolish word, when so many had turned out to see the spectacle. Brienne could hear the crowds from her chamber, clamouring and caterwauling. Merchants cried out their wares and Bakers dished out hot meat pies and cakes, serving families who had taken their children for a day trip.

And then there was the court, all gowned in black and hovering like vultures. The Little Queen and her bed of roses, all proved innocent of any wrongdoing.

“Where is the King?” she asked softly, falling into step beside him.

“In his rooms,” Jaime replied, “Ser Balon Swann is watching over him. He has been given a cup of Dreamwine to help him sleep through it. No one expects him to watch, thankfully. There are ordeals that even a King may be spared,”

That had been where Jaime last saw him. Tucked into his bed with his kittens nestled against him, tears dried on his cheeks and snot crusted round his nostrils. He had just escorted the young King back to his chambers after saying goodbye to his mother for the last time.

“Jaime-” she began, only for Jaime to interrupt her.

“Don't,” he ordered her, his voice hoarse and strained, “Just don't,”

“Sorry,” Brienne muttered, staring at her feet.

Jaime forced a tight smile and shook his head. “Don't be sorry,” he said drawing to a halt, laying a hand Brienne's arm, “Thank you for being here,”

“I wouldn't leave you to face it alone,”

“No, of course you wouldn't,” Jaime lifted his hand and cupped Brienne's maimed cheek, his eyes growing hard as they always did whenever he took in her scars.

“I wish they had lived,” he growled under his breathe, “So that I may have killed them,”

Brienne shook her head. “Just be glad that they are dead,”

“Would you be content with another killing Stannis?”

“Well, that is hardly the same,”

“No, you are far worthier than Renly ever was, and could ever have hoped to be,”

Brienne tried to summon a defence for her King, only to find that her tongue had grown heavy in her mouth. Instead, she found herself leaning into Jaime's touch.

The momentary silence was shattered by the pealing of the bells. Jaime jerked his hand back and clenched his jaw.

“It's time,”

~

Brienne tried to detach herself from Jaime upon arriving, only for his hand on her arm to suddenly tighten, as though in panic. He did not meet her eye, but his fingers dug into her skin through the heavy cloth of her gown. No whispers or weapons could drag her from his side after that.

They took their place on the raised dais, along with the Small Council, the Queen and her family. Lord Mace approached them, bowing obsequiously and greeting Jaime with a sombre shake of his head and a hand shake.

“ _No doubt he's hoping for a pretty gold badge to match all those pretty gold roses,”_ Jaime thought.

Queen Margaery joined them, pretty and demure in her simple black and gold gown, peering at them through a dainty Myrish lace veil. She slipped her hand through her father's arm and nodded graciously when Jaime and Brienne bowed.

“Ser Jaime, words cannot express the grief I feel on my beloved King's behalf. And yours, of course. Justice must be done, but to lose one's family...” she trailed off artfully, a single perfect tear running down her alabaster cheek, “I myself, always loved the Queen as a mother,”

“ _Loved? She isn't dead yet!”_

Jaime gave a tight smile. “I am only glad to see you safe, your Grace. For my nephew to lose both his wife and mother in such a short time... Thank the Seven those allegations against you proved to be untrue,”

Lord Tyrell tightened his grip on his daughter's arm, frowning at the mention of his daughter's trial, but the Queen merely gave him a pretty smile.

“I would hate to cause my beloved husband any grief,” she declared tremulously, “And I shall do all I can to help him through this most difficult time,”

“I thank you, Your Grace,”

Queen Margaery gave him a little smile, before turning towards Brienne, who Jaime realised has been subtly trying to hide behind him. The mere thought of which caused his lips to twitch, Brienne being a head taller than himself.

“Lady Brienne, I am so glad to see you. I have so longed to speak to you,”

Brienne blinked slowly, and only responded when Jaime gave her sharp poke in the back to prompt her. “Your Grace?”

“We have heard all about your bravery regarding those orphans. I have never heard of such courage,”

“I-thank you, your Grace,” Brienne stammered, her cheeks turning red and eyes fixed on the ground. Jaime, sensing her unease, placed his hand onto the small of her back.

“You must tell His Grace all about it, I know that he delights to hear such tales and it will be so good for him to hear some good news,” Queen Margaery continued, her eyes then flickered towards the arm Jaime had placed behind her, “Although, perhaps you will have some more good news for him very soon,”

Brienne was saved from answering by the rolls of the drums, and any amusement that Jaime may have felt at her discomfort vanished at the sight of his sister. Queen Margaery stood back with her father, and turned a stony face towards the straw strewn scaffold. Flanked by Gold-Cloaks and proceeded by the High Septon, Queen Cersei of House Lannister glided down the stone steps from her prison.

She had changed her gown for another, this one of black silk and embroidered with gold lions and ruby droplets, matching the gold and ruby rings and earrings. Her beautiful, set face; soon to be for Traitor's Walk, turned white at the sight of the scaffold.

Jaime stared straight ahead, deaf to the noise of the crowds, his eyes fixed on the sight of his twin being lead to her death. He dropped his hands; both flesh and gold, to the side and clenched his fist. Brienne discretely brushed her hand against his, hidden by the folds of her skirts. He loosened his fist and laced his fingers with her own, giving them a squeeze.

Cersei lifted her skirt and walked up the steps, jerking her arm away from the High Septon's attempts at assistance. She reached the top of the scaffold and pointedly stared past Ser Illyn, her eyes scanning the crowd. Their eyes met and emeralds scraped against emerald. Madly, Brienne found herself trying to withdraw her hand, as though the Queen could see it clasped in Jaime's from the scaffold. Jaime's face didn't shift, but his fingers clung on tighter. She ran a calloused thumb over his knuckles and shifted closer against him.

The crowd grew silent as the High Septon made the sign of the seven and began praying, his voice ringing out over the crowd as he asked the Father for justice and the Mother for mercy.

“ _Why not pray to the Stranger?”_ Jaime mused.

He could feel Cersei's eyes boring into him even after the blindfold plunged Cersei's world into darkness. It was only when she was turned and made to kneel did Jaime cease to feel her eyes on him. Yet he found himself unable to break his gaze away from the sight of his golden twin kneeling before the King's Justice. It so easily could have been him. So many wanted him dead, just as much as his sister.

His grip tightened on Brienne's hands, as though he feared she would move away. Brienne reciprocated in kind and squeezed it back. Even as his nails began to dig into her skin and draw blood did she refuse to move. Instead she remained by his side, waiting for the sword to fall.

 


End file.
